


The Art Room

by Benaddicted_Sherlockian, TheZeroMoment



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greaserlock, M/M, Square John, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benaddicted_Sherlockian/pseuds/Benaddicted_Sherlockian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZeroMoment/pseuds/TheZeroMoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson pushed his glasses up further on his nose as he shuffled through the halls of high school. Walking past the gang of greasers, John instinctively hunched his shoulders more and ducked his head to avoid the penetrating stare of Sherlock Holmes that would undoubtedly be thrown his way.<br/>Sherlock had no problem doing anything, that was until Little Johnny came along. Whenever John walked past he would look away, Sherlock knew he would lose all the ‘street cred’ if any of his gang found out that he liked one of the swotty school squares. Especially John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Greaser and The Square

**Author's Note:**

> Greaser Sherlock ~ Benaddicted_Sherlockian  
> Square John - LittlePurpleDuckling
> 
> You can read this fic in German if you do so please here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/53ff5101000394202e9c1dbe/1/The-Art-Room

-  
John Watson pushed his glasses up further on his nose as he shuffled through the halls of high school. Walking past the gang of greasers, John instinctively hunched his shoulders more and ducked his head to avoid the penetrating stare of Sherlock Holmes. He knew he would be leaning against the wall, collar popped and cigarette hanging from his criminally shaped lips, that form into a smirk when their eyes meet briefly. John remembers those eyes on him. It never failed to send shivers of excitement up his spine.

~  
Sherlock adjusted the collar of his leather jacket. He was stood in the 'smoking corner' of the school with his 'gang'. Jeremy Adamson, Daryl Pittman, Chester Heath and his girlfriend Ashley Phillips. Sherlock was the leader, he had to be the baddest, he had to be the most rebellious, he had to be everyone's worst nightmare. Sherlock had no problem doing this, that was until Little Johnny came along. Whenever John walked past he would look away, Sherlock knew he would lose all the ‘street cred’ if any of his gang found out that he liked one of the swotty school squares. Especially John Watson.

 

-  
Once John turned the corner away from the greasers, he could breath again. He needed to learn to control the feelings he had for Sherlock, especially in school, near Sherlock's friends. He didn't know any of them, and frankly, all of them scared him ever so slightly. He knew that half of them were high half the time, including Sherlock but John had no place to say anything about any of that.  
Sighing, John pushed his glasses up his nose again and began walking up the stairs to the library on the top floor. That's what he loved about school, the absolutely massive library. It was quiet in there and he didn't have to talk to anyone so it was perfect.

 

~  
Sherlock watched John turn the corner. He knew exactly where he was going.  
"Hey, I gotta take a leak," He called back to the gang as he turned away from the toilets and towards the library. Going up the stairs took him six seconds, his legs skipped three steps at a time, stretching an impressive amount especially since he was wearing black skinny jeans. Sure enough John was in the library, he was jumping on his tip-toes probably trying to reach one of his swotty books. Sherlock crept up behind him and grabbed the book from the shelf effortlessly.  
"Hey!" John screeched.  
"Haha, you're gonna have to catch it," Sherlock laughed as he danced around with the book surprisingly gracefully with his long, lanky legs.

 

-  
John poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in annoyance, folding his arms across his chest and holding his hand out for the book. Sherlock's laughter and silly attitude was infectious, but John was fighting a blush when Sherlock's shirt rode up just a bit around his hips when he raised his arms. God, he was thin, gangly was the word that came to mind. Annoyingly tall, taller than John, which was a fact he never failed to remind him of. 'Please can I have the book Sherlock,' John straightened his face, biting his lip slightly.

~  
“Maybe, IF you come to the art room at third break. Then, and ONLY then, will I consider giving you your 'encyclopaedia of life'?! You need better things to do in your spare time," Sherlock spun on his heels and strode off, one giant step at a time. He tried hiding the book on the inside of his jacket as he leapt down the stairs. To get to his locker he had to go past the smoking corner and he didn't fancy having to explain why he had an 'encyclopaedia of life' with him. He took a breath before turning the corner and then ran as fast as he could.  
"Hey Sher-- Where are you going?" He heard Jeremy shout after him.  
"Two seconds!" Sherlock replied. He unlocked his locker and threw the book inside, it landed on top of his Maths homework from months ago that he willingly took a detention for because he couldn't be arsed to get it from his locker.

-  
John sighed again, giggling slightly at the dramatic teenager. He sat down at a desk and pulled out his history homework. He might as well do that while he was here seeing as he couldn't get the book he needed for science. Stupid Sherlock, being so pretty and flamboyant. The art room huh? No one ever went in there apart from the crazy art students with hair dyed various colours with Kool-Aid. He didn't know Sherlock liked to draw, maybe he didn't, maybe he just had the key to the art room (and every other goddamn room in the school but let's not mention that). John swung his legs while he wrote down his answer to the questions about how the development of the guillotine helped the French Revolution or whatever.  
He wrote a good page and a half before the bell rang, signalling the end of second break. Yay, maths. At least Sherlock was in his set. For a greaser, he was incredibly intelligent.

~  
Ugh, maths. Sherlock knew everything already. At least he could just sit and watch other people... well, John, scribble away trying to figure out (x2y2 = x2 + 4xy + 4y2. Sherlock did his homework this time, after dropping off the encyclopaedia he had gone to the toilets to write down the answers. It was horrendously scruffy but he couldn't get a detention today, he had somewhere to be third break. Sherlock smiled to himself as he double checked that the art room keys were still there. The bell rang for lunch break and Jeremy, Daryl, Chester and Ashley were pulling faces at the maths door, they were all in the average-levelled maths class apart from Chester, Chester was classified as a 'cause for concern'. Everyone thought he was dropped on his head when he was a baby but it was probably from smoking since he was a youngster.  
"You're such a swot Mr Top maths set," Daryl teased.  
“Are you sure its me being a swot and not just you being thick?" Sherlock replied, tapping Daryl's head.  
"I'm average, thank you very much," They went off towards the canteen together to push past everyone to the front, no way were they going to miss chip day.

-  
John slipped out of the maths classroom, being the last to leave as per usual, it was easier to be honest, to just avoid the canteen entirely until the crowds of hungry teenagers died down a bit. John leant against the wall and took off his glasses, polishing them with the edge of his sleeve before pushing them back up onto his nose, leaving time for the other kids from the other classes to wander past him, chatting aimlessly to one another. Maybe he should go and try and finish that history thing... yeah. That’s what he should do. John wandered off down the hallway, backpack on his shoulders, towards the library where he would probably proceed to sit quietly for the next twenty minutes, finishing his history work and reading a few pages of his book. It was always a lot nicer in the library, but he did have to eat sometime. So he put his book back in his bag and got up to leave for the canteen.

~  
Sherlock was sat at the back table in the canteen. The greaser gang owned that table. Ashely was sat on Chester's knee, stealing chips from his plate. Daryl had already wolfed down his portion and began eating Jeremy’s when he wasn't looking. Sherlock was sat dissecting the golden chips with a fork, picking out the potato innards. All the other students would look at the gang when they thought they wouldn't notice, but Sherlock always caught them. Most girls liked Jeremy. He was tall with light brown hair, brown eyes, he wore denim skinny jeans, biker boots and had his leather jacket sleeves pushed up to his elbows exposing his muscled arms. Daryl was popular with the girls too. He had a huge sweeping fringe across his face. No one knew his eye colour, they couldn't see through his brown mop of hair. Daryl wore a black jacket and jeans with bright red converse. Ashley, the only girl of the group had her golden hair pulled up into a ponytail letting her fringe hang loose above her light blue eyes. She wore a tight white top and a cropped leather jacket with high waisted black skinny jeans and neon pink Doctor Martens. She was the most attractive girl in school which often made people wonder why she would choose Chester above all people to be in a relationship with. Chester wasn't the most appealing person, he had dirty blonde hair that stuck out from beneath his navy beanie hat, a dark green trench coat a few sizes too big, a brown shirt that was god knows how old and brown hiking boots. He was the shortest too.

-  
Navigating the hallways when they were empty, or near enough, was far easier than shoving his way through the mass of students that moved and talked as one being. Honestly, it was terrifying being five foot four inches tall. John made it to the canteen relatively quicker than normal, maybe it was hunger, maybe it was the slight desperation of seeing Sherlock again. Who knows? Certainly not John. (It was the second one.) The canteen was packed, as per usual, teenagers sitting around on separate tables, some were pushed together to make room for other friends but mainly it was groups of five dotted around the hall, John noticed the group of Sherlock and his friends sitting at the table at the back. He knew for a fact that if anyone else went and sat on that table, they would most likely die, and not by any of the greasers’ doings. Sherlock himself was picking at his food, in a way that made the chips look virtually inedible. John picked up a sandwich and a bottle of water, planning to sneak out of the canteen to go hide in an empty classroom for a bit before class, but it seemed that was not going to happen when Mike Stamford, his partner from science called him over to sit with him. Mike was notably squarish sort of person too, so it wouldn’t cause an upcry. Biting his lip, John walked over and sat by him on one of the smaller tables. 

~  
“Dude, haven’t you picked at those poor chips enough?” Daryl said, picking up the last remaining chip from Jeremy’s plate.  
“Hmm,’’ Sherlock was too busy thinking about third break. Just one more painstaking lesson to sit through and he’d have a whole 20 minutes to spend with John.  
‘’Helloooo?!” Ashley sang “Earth to Sherlock. Come on, lets go,” Sherlock put his fork in the mountain of potato he had scooped out and slid off the bench. He walked with his plate to the bins and caught Johns eye, letting a sly smirk form on his face. ‘Just one more lesson’ he reminded himself as he left the canteen and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.

-  
John couldn’t help blush when Sherlock looked at him, and busied himself with his sandwich while Mike was going on about some fucking movie John had never heard of. John tried to keep his thoughts strictly No-Sherlock but it didn’t really work, as he began thinking about his cheekbones. They were incredible, high on his face and highlighting his stunning grey eyes, which always lit up when the greaser was being irritating or he knew he had done something right. Mike snapped his fingers in front of John’s face suddenly, bringing John out of his daydream about Sherlock’s lips.. Which was a good thing because it was getting slightly inappropriate.  
‘Come on mate, the bell’s just gone.’ John nodded numbly and crammed the last bit of sandwich in his mouth before balling up the clingfilm it came in to throw in the bin on the way out.


	2. Third Break

~  
After smoking, Sherlock made his way to Miss Brant’s English class. He couldn’t do creative writing for toffee, which explains why he was in the same class as Chester.  
“Are you coming to watch the drag racing at third break?’’ Chester asked, he spoke with a slur and couldn’t pronounce certain words properly but Sherlock managed to decipher what he was trying to say.  
‘’Can’t, I’ve got detention,’’’ Sherlock lied.  
“Screw detention, man.”  
“I really can’t, Chester. If I miss this one then I’m going to be out on bog duty and I don’t fancy having to clean other humans excrement.”  
“Oh, alright then mate. I’ll tell Ashley and the others.”  
“Boys! You two look like you’ve been listening, Why don’t you give me an adverb?” Miss Brant stood with her arms folded.  
“Gay!” Chester sniggered.  
“Nice try Chester,” Miss Brant sighed “Go on Sherlock, You give us one. A decent one.”  
“Erm… gently,” Sherlock said the first adverb-sounding word that came to his head. God, he couldn’t wait for this lesson to be over.

-  
John made it to the Geography classroom just in time for the second bell to ring. He slipped in through the door and hurried to the back of the class, he hated Geography with a fierce burning passion, but he had to take it, otherwise he wouldn’t have enough GCSE’s to make it to get into sixth form to be able to go to university. It was a hard battle. John scuffed the toes of his almost worn out brown brogues against the ground while he made notes on ‘How the British used the geography of that time to discover America’ or something along those lines. The mock exam was in a month or so, so naturally John should’ve really been paying attention, but he the only thing he could think of, was Sherlock, and how, he was meeting him in the art room in fifteen minutes… Ten minutes… Two minutes. And then the bell went, John jumped up and was, oddly, first out of the door.

~  
Sherlock could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He nearly fell out of his chair when the bell started it’s hourly rage session. He threw his books into his battered rucksack that only had one strap left and escaped the classroom before Miss Brant could tell him to write his homework for next week in his book.  
“Oi, Sherlock. Calm down, its only detention you’ll be late for,” Chester shouted after him. Down the hall, left at the music rooms, up the stairs, along the hall again and right at the drama room. He made it just in time to catch his breath again and lean against the wall outside the art room so John didn’t know he had just ran across half the school. Sherlock had to keep his cool, he wasn’t going to get flustered over the thought of being late to meet someone. He’d never been like this before. He didn’t know whether to like this new feeling or not.

-  
John forced himself to walk calmly through the crowds, then up the three flights of stairs, and down the south hall to the art room. He prayed Sherlock was already in there, it would be horrifically awkward to be waiting for Sherlock Holmes, he’s sought after enough. John turned the final corner to see Sherlock leaning against the wall, head back, long, elegant neck stretched out, pushing the tendons against the skin. It made John dry mouthed and shaky. He looked so relaxed. He almost felt like he way ruining it when he disturbed the silence.  
“Hey,” 

~  
Sherlock heard the sweet voice he’d been waiting for. He stood up to his full height, towering over the shorter than average boy and flashed his signature smirk.  
“Hey,” he deepened his voice, so it was lower than usual “About time,” Sherlock joked. He spun on his heels and slid the key into the lock, looking out for teachers or pupils as he turned it. The lock clicked as it spat out the key. Sherlock pushed open the door and held it for John. “I want to show you something,” he said in a quiet tone. Sherlock walked over to the cupboards and opened the one containing the year 12 work and flipped through the pieces of paper until he found his piece of work. “I spent a lot of fucking time on this so you’d better appreciate it,” He handed John the paper which had a pencil drawing of the cable pattern you find on jumpers and sweaters with Sherlocks signature etched on the corner.

-  
John took the stunning sketch from Sherlock’s pale, deft fingers, and looked at it closely. Upon closer examination, he noticed that it was the exact cable knit of his favourite cream jumper that he wore whenever he could. Sherlock must’ve really been paying attention to be able to copy the pattern in this much detail.  
‘It’s beautiful..’ John whispered. He knew Sherlock must’ve taken art to get the keys to the art room. The idea that he could create things so beautiful out of something so plain was amazing. John bit his lip and ran his fingers over the edge of the paper.

~  
Sherlock analyzed John’s face as he handed it to him, John was doing that adorable smile that was bigger on one side than the other.  
“Don’t get soft on me,” Sherlock said in a light tone, smiling at Johns appreciation for something that took him weeks to complete. Sherlock wasn’t the most talented person in the art department but when he was drawing something so important to him he wasn’t going mess up. “Draw me,” Sherlock said with determination “Draw your favourite thing about me. Don’t tell me you can’t draw, just do it,” Sherlock looked John straight in the eye, staring for a while until he batted his eyelashes and said “For me,” pulling his award winning puppy dog eyes.

-  
John froze, biting down on his lip even harder. Sherlock told him not to say he couldn’t draw, but he couldn’t. It was something he’d never been good at. His hands got all shaky and how the heck was he supposed to draw someone as complicated as Sherlock Holmes? The eyes were killing him, making his insides turn to goo.  
‘O-Okay then, it’ll be awful though.’ John said, stepping away from Sherlock to catch a breath of air. The other boy was so intense and sometimes it scared John. He sat down at one of the wooden desks and took his notebook out of his bag, along with a pencil and a rubber. John faffed around a lot, trying to buy himself more time before having to look at Sherlock again.

~  
“Don’t try to stall, we’re staying here until you’ve finished,” Sherlock spoke with a grin “You’re lessons can wait, If you really don’t want to be late for your class I suggest you get started. You’ve got 15 minutes left of break,” He loved watching the younger boy stare at him with eyes that showed just how much he was freaking out. The poor boy was such a swot. Sherlock laughed in his head, his little Johnny was a dedicated goody two shoes.

-  
‘Erm..’ John twirled his pencil in his fingers. ‘How do you want me to draw you? I honestly have no clue what I’m doing, I’m really bad at this...’ John muttered under his breath. He looked back up at Sherlock to see the amused expression on his face. The bastard was enjoying this. John sighed and looked back down and the blank paper and began to draw.

~  
“You don’t have to draw all of me. I don’t think anyone can draw this masterpiece,” Sherlock pulled cheesy grin and posed like a model with smouldering eyes “Just draw what you love most about me. Yes, I know theres a lot to choose from but you’re just going to have to decide.” Sherlock watched John look at him, trying to read his expression, trying to see what John was thinking about drawing. They had 10 minutes left now, his Johnny was going to be staying a little longer it seems.

-  
John poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration while he drew Sherlock’s eyes, wide and almost cartoonish. How they crinkled just slightly in the corners which made them look like they were laughing. He spent what seemed like forever shading in Sherlock’s irises, trying to get the swirling grey pencil as similar as possible to the real thing. He drew in fine eyelashes and then carefully went around the whole pair of eyes, outlining them, almost.

~  
Sherlock beamed, so it was his eyes then. ‘Eyes symbolise the gateway to the soul’. The picture was quite impressive seeing as John had scrawled it in 8 minutes flat. ‘Can’t draw? hah, my arse!’ Sherlock thought to himself. John signed his name at the bottom. He was finished. He was finished too soon. Sherlock had planned to stay with John for at least another half an hour. “Hey, look at me.” Sherlock commanded. John looked up as Sherlock lept forward over the small desk and pushed his lips onto John’s.

-  
The sudden shock of Sherlock so near to him made John blush. The feeling of Sherlock’s damp mouth pressed against his was sending him into overdrive. Sherlock Holmes was kissing him. John fluttered his eyes closed and grabbed Sherlock’s collar to steady himself, since when was he so shaky? Sherlock was so gentle, lips careful and precise against John’s, were soft, so soft. Carefully though, John pulled back, breathing shaky, clinging on to Sherlock’s collar of his leather jacket to keep him close.

~  
Sherlock smiled as he felt John’s hands gripped around his neck. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting,” Sherlock murmured before he pushed John up against the shelves filled with paints and brushes. He slipped his cold hand through the short boys hair as their lips collided. With the other hand Sherlock lifted John up to sit on the counter so they were the same height. “Have you done this before?” Sherlock asked between kisses, John felt so hot and tense against him.

-  
John shook his head and clenched Sherlock’s white shirt in his fingers, he was almost straddling him for gods sake, he was so close, Sherlock was directly in front of him. His eyes were so intense, it was almost scary. Sherlock, though, seemed quite relaxed, running his hands through John’s hair in what felt like an attempt to calm him. John didn’t know what to do, so he lent forward and pressed his blushing face into Sherlock’s neck, pulling him close. 

~  
A content smile grew on Sherlocks face, he held John tightly feeling the boys pulse racing against his own pale skin. Sherlock ducked his head and laid a soft kiss on Johns hair.  
“Oh. My. God,” Sherlock whipped round and saw Jeremy stood in the doorway, jaw almost at the floor. “erm…” Jeremy looked flustered, seeing the gang leader and the school swot together in the dark, abandoned art room with their clothes and hair a mess with rosy cheeks and scared expressions after being caught kissing was enough to make even Jeremy speechless.  
“Jeremy, wait--” Sherlock called after him, desperately, “Come back!” It was hopeless, Jeremy had already disappeared around the corner once the bell that signalled end of break had rung. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes as he slid down the wall until he was sat, head tucked between his knees on the floor. “Oh god, what have I done?” he whispered in a hoarse voice.


	3. Uncle J

-  
John sat on the side, speechless. He always thought that Sherlock’s friends knew about the greaser being… well, gay. Maybe it was the shock of it being John that freaked the guy out. He slid off the side quietly and padded over to Sherlock, who was sitting on the floor. He bit his lip and knelt by Sherlock, careful to not touch the boy. He didn’t know how Sherlock would react.  
‘I’m sorry.’ John whispered. ‘I’ll go after him if you want, I’ll explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, that we are just friends if that makes the situation any better...’

~  
“No… just- don’t,” Sherlock breathed. What was he going to do? Jeremy would tell everyone and Sherlock would be beaten and battered until he was only bruises and bones. “I. I gotta go,” He stood up and left John alone in the empty room. The toilets, that should be a quiet place where he could get his head straight. Sherlock opened the door of boys toilets, teary eyed to the point where he couldn’t see. All he could make out was a tall figure in black approaching him. Sherlock opened his mouth tell whoever it was to piss off but before he could say anything he felt the person up against him, arms almost making breathing impossible.   
“Its cool, you know, You’re good,” he heard Jeremy say. Sherlock relaxed into his friends hug and wept into his shoulder “No one knows and no one is going to find out if you don’t want them to. I’ve got your back mate.”   
“Th- Tha- Cheers,” Sherlock eventually spat out between relieved sobs.  
“Right then, come here and let uncle J clean up those tears,” Jeremy smiled as he passed Sherlock some tissue to clean himself up. “Just don’t go all soft on me. Ok?”  
“Ok.” 

-  
John breathed out shakily. So that’s what it was like then. He stood there for a second, trying to pull himself together, the fact that Sherlock felt like he couldn’t talk to John about what would obviously pull them both down was irritating. John had always been at the bottom of the fucking pecking order! And he thought they were something more than just friends now… He couldn’t stay angry at Sherlock though, he needed to know if he was okay.  
‘Sherlock…’ He muttered aloud, walking out of the room quickly and down the hall, to the boy’s bathroom would’ve been the most obvious place to check first so he went there. He pushed open the door. He stopped to see Sherlock clinging to Jeremy. A little bit of jealousy flared up in his stomach but he ignored it.   
‘Right then, come here and let uncle J clean up those tears,’ Jeremy said, getting a tissue for Sherlock. ‘Just don’t go all soft on me. Ok?’  
‘Ok.’ Sherlock replied.  
‘Sherlock..’ John said, still standing by the door, but he took a step towards the crying boy.

~  
“I’ll give you to a bit of privacy then,” Jeremy winked at John “Just dont do anything I wouldn’t do, eh, Sherlock,” He left the bathroom and turned around to signal the thumbs up to the boys through the window in the door. Sherlock smiled and lifted John up to kiss him on the forehead   
“We’re good! Jeremy’s keeping his mouth shut!” He almost sang while pirouetting before putting his precious little John down. Sherlock rested his hands on the counter by the sinks and sighed onto the mirror so a small condensation patch formed, he drew a tiny ‘J+S’ in the patch before it faded away.

-  
John giggled at Sherlock being so cute, but he couldn’t help the niggling feeling of disappointment in Sherlock, that he felt like he couldn’t talk to John about what might’ve happened. Sherlock had written J+S on the mirror, did that mean that Sherlock wanted him? Or Jeremy.. Both their names did start with a J… Maybe Jeremy was Sherlock’s boyfriend, or maybe they had some history together, and that’s why he freaked and ran out of the art room. John leant against the counter, next to Sherlock and looked down at his toes, trying to control his slight anger and confusion. Maybe John had it all wrong, it was a mistake, and Jeremy left Sherlock in here with John to explain that it was all lies, that the kiss was fake, that Sherlock didn’t want John in the way that he wanted him, or at all…

~  
“Let’s go somewhere…” Sherlock thought out loud. “Forget school and all the insufferable people that come with it. Lets go out somewhere,” Before John could protest Sherlock grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the bathroom and out of school. Sherlock drove a 1962 dodge lancer to match his greaser personality. He opened the passenger side and brushed off leftover cigarettes butts and school work he thought he’d lost to make room for John to sit. The engine purred as they drove out of the school car park and along the road, a mix of The Four Aces and Fats Domino playing through the speakers “Tell me why I keep fooling my heart when I know it was love from the start. Why don't we give it a try if you know, tell me why,” Sherlock sang heartfully as they drove along the roads.

-  
John laughed hollowly at Sherlock’s singing, it was pleasant, he had a deep baritone voice, smooth and calming like the old jazz singers from America, or from right down south. John loved it, and would’ve sang along if he was positive that Sherlock wanted him, if anything, it sounded like he was singing about Jeremy. Maybe he was taking him out of school to leave him in the middle of nowhere, but Sherlock didn’t seem that mean. The uneasy feeling he had made his head hurt and his stomach churn. He decided he didn’t like it one bit.  
‘Hey Sherlock..’ John mumbled. ‘D’you, you know, want to do this? With me I mean… I don’t know what you want...’ He looked down at his fingers, wound together in his lap. The music stopped. 

~  
“What do you mean? Of course I do. I’ve risked my reputation for you!” Sherlock pulled over to the side of the road and faced John. “Do you know how close we were to being found out? If it wasn’t for Jeremy we would be torn to shreds, you know what happens to people like us. We just got off lucky this time, not many people are as good hearted as Jeremy. We owe him so much. I have sacrificed my life for this. I always used to tell myself ‘sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side’ but then you come along and mess with my head, eh Johnny,” Sherlock smiled at the boy. He looked a lot of things…. scared, confused, worried, disappointed almost, but Sherlock couldn’t put his finger on the right one. John was the only person Sherlock couldn’t see through, perhaps that was what attracted him. John was the most ordinary looking teenager yet he was so much more than that. “What’s up with you? You know I’m not good with emotions.”

-  
John balled his hands into fists, clenching his trousers in his hands. He was scared, incredibly relieved though. Sherlock did want him. He said it himself, he liked him, he said he risked everything for him… John did know what happened to people like them. Like him. It happened to him in his old school, before he transferred. No one liked people who liked the same sex.   
‘I thought.. I thought that you.. and Jeremy, I thought you two...’ John mumbled. Saying it outloud made it sound petty and stupid, childish. He felt so little next to Sherlock, so over emotional and thick. It was silly really. 

~  
Sherlock smiled sympathetically. Bless the boys’ little heart.   
“Jeremy is a friend, a very good friend but nothing more. I promise,” Sherlock leaned over and kissed John’s head “You mean the world to me. It kills me seeing you look so scared by the others,” he disconnected his seatbelt and turned round to face John, his long legs crossed upon the seat. The radio crackled as Sherlock turned the volume back up. “Yes it's me and I'm in love again, Had no lovin' since you know when, You know I love you, yes I do. And I'm saving all my lovin' just for you. Need your lovin' and I need it bad, Just like a dog when he's goin' mad. Woo-ee baby, woo-oo-ee, Baby won't you give your love to me,” Sherlock harmonized with the soulful vocals of Fats Domino swaying and clicking his fingers along to the beat then pointing to John at the end, flashing cheesy grin.

-  
John laughed at the antics of the greaser, finally relieved that he wasn’t going to be left out here all alone by a stone faced Sherlock, who was currently snapping his fingers and dancing along to the music. He couldn’t help but blush as he undid his seatbelt and faced the other boy, mindful of not putting his feet on the leather chairs. Sherlock gave him a massive cheesy grin and it’s one he couldn’t help return.  
‘So,’ John said when the song ended, ‘Why did you bring me to the side of a motorway?’ He giggled, realising that that is actually where they were, and that whichever cars were passing were looking at Sherlock’s old car strangely. A woman even craned her neck to look at them through her window as she passed, her wide-eyed children sitting in the back.

~  
“Have you ever been to the sea?” Sherlock asked. He had never been before and it was somewhere he’d always wanted to go but he never got the chance. “Lets go to one with a pier, We can get fish and chips too,” Sherlock swung his legs around excitedly and buckled his seatbelt before driving back onto the motorway and into the fast lane, heading towards brighton quietly humming ‘Oh I do like to be beside the seaside.’ 

-  
John laughed and sang the old tune along with Sherlock as they sped along the long straight road.   
‘OH! I do like to be beside the sea side!’ He giggled, he remembered singing this song years ago. John loved the seaside, and it would be undoubtedly beautiful this time of year. John knew it would be perfect with Sherlock by his side.


End file.
